Tardy
by Mistress Fluffy
Summary: Sometimes one is tardy for a most important engagement. Read if you want something airy and fluffyOneshot


Tardy

8/10/2007

Mistress Fluffy

The natural world settled down for the night, he blinked slowly taking in the last lingering rays of preferred sunlight that grew dimmer each passing second. He flexed his fingers, a few mutely cracking in the process, he crouched as if in a crude bow although his legs were spaced as though to sprint to the end of the lane. As the sun dipped and all light ceased for the span of milliseconds, the man sped, downwind, towards a large city. Toward a knowing target.

His tied hair whipped behind him aching for escape of the bind, his clothes lashed back at his skin, he just ran faster hoping to get there in time. He was sure it was today. He had hoped for years that he could remember when to go but, he had put it off for days not knowing positively when.

It was so long ago that they had made the agreement.

Sometimes his memory wasn't what it use to be.

Periodically he worried that the time had made his mind grow soft and slightly psychotic. But once the thought entered his prized mind, he scoffed it aside; he was renowned for his mind and what it produced. Of course, he stopped writing years ago; people assumed he was dead. It was what he wanted.

He was closing in on the city and his destination, a shrine in the peaceful side of the metropolis that housed millions. He hadn't gotten used to so many humans, their smells and loud voices, so he sought solace in the remaining forests of Japan, at the base of a mountain.

When he arrived in the district, down the street from the shrine he slowed down detouring in an alley. Stopping, holding the desire to breathe deeply, he turned and emerged on the busy street heading towards her shrine.

He hoped today was the day. But he couldn't be sure.

He turned to looked at the many steps leading up to his destination, wondering briefly if he was dressed appropriately; his contact with the new social standards were tentative at best.

He started the slow ascent.

He tugged on the sleeves of his long sleeved shirt, adjusted his trousers, tucked wisps of his still long hair behind a pointed ear. He heard muted prayers and a young man in the distance coming from his target.

He stepped onto the last step and looked around, seeing strangers and someone vaguely familiar. He walked up to the young man who swept.

The young man looked up, "hello, can I help you?"

He nodded briefly, "I'm looking for a woman named Kagome."

The young man's face screwed up in concentration and consideration, gazing at the imposing man with silver hair in front of him. "You look like InuYasha."

He scowled, "He's my half-brother. I'm looking for Kagome, she's here?" It was rare for him to question but time had worn him down.

The young man nodded, "You're Sesshomaru, then? I'm Souta, Kagome's younger brother." Souta briefly bowed before gesturing towards the well house. "She's been in there every day since she came back a couple weeks ago, you'll find her in there."

So he had been wrong about the date.

He thanked Souta and walked towards the well house in need of a repair, sniffing at the delicate scent the leaked out. He slide the shoji door aside, illuminating the dark interior and the sole figure sitting on the few steps. She turned, her azure eyes alighting on him, her grin quick and bright.

She jumped up, leaped over the steps and into his arms before he could form the words he had long thought of saying. Meaningless poetry that took hundreds of years to write, that had been rewritten numerous times—that now seemed insignificant at the sight of Kagome.

His Kagome.

"Sesshomaru," she breathed into his neck, breathing deeply and clutching tighter.

He tightened his hold on her, bending his neck to inhale his favorite scent, one he had never forgotten. "Kagome," he softly spoke, desiring to keep in that moment for hundreds of more years.

He had waited hundreds of years for her, he had come late but he had come when they promised she would go back to her time.

She had waited knowing he was alive, for his mark on her neck had not vanished in the time she jumped in the well to her time.

They finally had eachother.


End file.
